


if the heavens ever did speak

by saffroncassis



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Girls in Love, Making Out, Wedding Night, changing the rating a month later bc even though my beta said it felt like a T....., i just can’t in good conscience put this in the line of sight of 13 y.o.s, so like peak self indulgence plus some character study-ish stuff, talking about boundaries, this is just girls being soft and sensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saffroncassis/pseuds/saffroncassis
Summary: Marianne and Hilda have a talk about faith, love, and sex.Marianne runs her thumb over Hilda’s cheek, before sliding it down to her neck. She moves her face lower.“May I?” Marianne asks, voice trembling a bit, and Hilda smiles as she always does when they get this far. It’s always been a bit easier for Marianne to be the one doing the pleasing, a bit easier to move pliantly to wherever Hilda wants her and delight her.“Yes,please.”
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	if the heavens ever did speak

Marianne walks into the room and gasps.

It’s heavily curtained and decorated, with flowery tapestries hung upon the walls, and vases placed on dark-wooded chests and drawers. Candelabras sit atop any cleared surface, casting the massive bed in the center of the room in warm light, letting the gauzy drapery hanging from the bedposts glow. And laying on it, in the midst of a scattering of red rose petals, is Hilda, smiling up at her sweetly.

“Hello, Darling,” she says, sweet as honey, moving to sit up, pulling her legs gracefully under her sheer white skirt. She’s changed out of her wedding gown already and is instead wearing what can only be described as a sham of a dress, with panels of lace draped artfully across her body to just barely cover her breasts and hips. Hilda always wears loose, racy clothing to bed but the white floral pattern and baby’s breath braided into her hair make her truly look like an eager bride on her wedding night.

Marianne carefully, delicately, steps forward and sits on the bed. She’s still wearing her own gown, all billowing sheets of taffeta and tightly tied bows. She slips her heels off with a soft thud. 

“Hello, Hilda.”

Her new wife traces the shell of her ear with one finger. “May I take off your veil?”

Marianne nods, and Hilda sends her another smile, this time languid and self-satisfied, and settles herself behind her. 

Marianne tugs her silk gloves off finger by finger, heart pounding. She’s certain her face is brightly pink. A curtain of hair descends over her eyes, and Hilda moves to set the sheer veil on Marianne’s lap. 

“Would you like to change,” Hilda asks. “There is a chest of clothes and other…items should you want any of them. Whatever you want, I can go get.”

“I’ll change,” Marianne says, and smiles shyly. Though years of dressing wounds (both others’ and her own) have made her used to battlefield nudity, there is something more vulnerable about slipping out of her clothes in front of Hilda.

Hilda opens up an oak chest at the foot of the bed and pulls out a few different sets of pale, pretty outfits.

There is a floor-length frock with capped sleeves, a blue-tinted dressing robe, and even something matching Hida’s own choice of sleepwear drape for drape. Marianne considers it, flustered. Wearing something so baring would make her feel self-conscious until she fell asleep, but if she and Hilda were to make love, it would be more convenient. The idea of that though, even with Hilda, makes her more nervous than walking down the aisle had. 

She runs a hand down the stripes of thin lace and tries to imagine it. Hilda lowering her gently onto the bed, kissing her mouth then neck then down further than they’d done before. Tries to imagine her own hands on her wife, palm pressed flat to Hilda’s bare midriff, fingers squeezing her thighs. The thought of Hilda’s voice, sweet and staggered, her flushed cheeks, makes Marianne feel hot and burning, certainly, but also sends a pit of violently fluttering moths alive in her stomach. It makes her head spin.

She drops the fabric.

“Hilda—,” Marianne starts, whirling to face her. Hilda cocks her head from where she’s sitting patiently on a pillow. 

“Before we got married, I told you that I wanted— that I was not going to go to bed with someone before getting married because I was saving myself. And I know that tonight is our wedding night, and it is to be expected, and you were likely looking forward to it but—” 

“Oh, hey, Marianne, it’s fine!” She watches with a pounding heart as Hilda crawls to her, moving up on her knees so she can speak eye-to-eye. “Darling, it’s fine, okay, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Marianne leans into the hand Hilda places on her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I married you because I love you, not because I’m trying to bed you as soon as humanly possible. We don’t have to do anything tonight.” Hilda lets out a short laugh. “I’ve never been overly devout, but I know it’s probably hard to just flip your way of thinking and believe that the Goddess is suddenly between us in this bed because you got married.”

“Hilda….” Marianne sits down onto the bed. “I’m not even certain my reluctance is due to the Goddess.”

“Oh?”

“Or she is probably a part of it, or maybe even the cause and I don’t realize, but I just—” Marianne clutches her hands to her chest. “I don’t think I’m ready to go that far.”

A hand comes to rest over Marianne’s closed ones, and she lifts her eyes to meet Hilda’s concerned gaze. “That’s perfectly okay, all right? We’ll go as slow as you want to, Sweetheart, until you’re ready for it. And you don’t even ever have to be ready for it okay? You don’t have to ever do anything with me for us to stay together. I loved you for yourself before we even got married, and I still love you the same now, sex or no sex.”

Marianne unclasps her fingers and wraps them tightly around Hilda’s. She brings her head down to rest against their folded hands. “Okay,” she says finally, and even though it feels like there’s a bird trapped in her chest, she trusts Hilda. “Know that I love you very much. More than anyone else in this world.” 

Hilda embraces her and says against her hair, “And I, you.”

They stay like that for a moment, until Marianne gently shakes off the hug, “This wedding dress is still very uncomfortable. Would you help me change out of it?”

Hilda’s lips curl up warmly. She kneels on the bed to undo the fasteners on the back of the dress, and unlace the brassier underneath. The entire ensemble falls onto the rich rug underfoot with barely a whisper, and Marianne steps out of it and picks up the nightgown Hilda had laid out. She slides it on and stays still for Hilda to clasp the back together.

Hilda’s hands brushing over the cloth as she trails them down Marianne’s back are a phantom sensation, one that leaves goosebumps in its wake. Marianne turns around and sits on the edge of the bed. “I would like to kiss you,” she says, and after Hilda closes her eyes in permission Marianne cups her cheek and kisses her.

Hilda’s lips are soft and supple, as usual, and they taste different than they had at the wedding. Of all the kisses they shared earlier in the evening, Hilda had tasted pleasantly bland from the rouge on her lips, tangy and sweet from the berries on their cake, and even sharp and bitter from the alcohol she’d drunk. Now, her lips taste like milk, and Marianne spares a thought to wonder if she’d washed her face in it to moisturize before bed.

One of Hilda’s hands comes up to lay over Marianne’s on her cheek, and the other settles on the junction of hip and waist in front of her. Hilda breaks away to turn her head and more neatly slot them together, opening her mouth wider. She sighs. The sound sends Marianne’s insides into giddy disarray. They kiss deeply, pausing only to huff out breaths and take in air. Hilda’s hand travels from hip to stomach, flat and caressing. Marianne runs her thumb over Hilda’s cheek, before sliding it down to her neck. She moves her face lower.

“May I?” Marianne asks, voice trembling a bit, and Hilda smiles as she always does when they get this far. It’s always been a bit easier for Marianne to be the one doing the pleasing, a bit easier to move pliantly to wherever Hilda wants her and delight her.

“Yes, _please_.”

Marianne peppers kisses on the other’s jaw, soft and brief, but interrupted by delicate nips here and there. She makes her way down, from jaw to under-ear to side of neck. She slides her mouth over the impossible softness and nuzzles her nose into her lover’s neck, breathing in the floral perfume rising from the skin. Hilda lets out a pleased hum above her, and Marianne feels her own face grow hotter with a sort of embarrassed pride. The staccato of her pecks morphs into a slower, wetter kiss near Hilda’s collar, and the other lifts her chin to allow Marianne better access. She presses close, biting the flesh between her teeth carefully, licking and sucking with total concentration, and Hilda lets out a gasp followed by a soft moan, her hands rising and stroking up Marianne’s body, one to rest at the side of her breast and the other to press into the back of Marianne’s own neck. 

Marianne continues her work, at this point pleased and flushed herself, and works her way down Hilda’s chest to the valley between her breasts.

Hilda, quivering under her ministrations, finally pulls Marianne up. Her hands, which had been kneading into Marianne’s back and running through her hair, now clutch at the back of her dressing gown with trembling fingers as she slots her mouth to Marianne’s own and kisses her. Hilda breaks the uncomfortable angle after a moment and lets Marianne pull herself up rightly, and resettles herself on her knees, between her wife’s legs. Hilda leans her weight onto Marianne’s thighs and squeezes with her fingers the softness there, before leaning up to kiss her again more properly. 

They kiss softer now, slowly but still passionately, and hums and moans and the occasional gasp fill the short spaces between them. Hilda runs her thumbs over Marianne’s thighs just as her lover’s fingers travel her body, up to her shoulder blades and down to the small of her back, like they’ve been stricken by wanderlust and need to explore every nook and cranny of her.

“Marianne,” she calls, voice rough.

Marianne lets out a soft cry in response.

Hilda pulls away, breathing hard, and sets her forehead on Marianne’s shoulder. “I love you,” she says, turning her face and smiling into cloth and skin. “I love you, my sweet, wonderful, perfect wife.”

Marianne runs her hands up and through Hilda’s hair, fiddling with a bundle of baby’s breath. “I love you too,” she says, a bit strangled. “May I—” her hands still for a moment, while she gathers her courage. “Even if I don’t want anything for myself, I still want to do something for you”

Hilda blinks languidly up at her. “Not tonight,” she says quietly, and Marianne can’t help the little pocket of rejection that opens up in her chest. “As much as it makes me happy to hear that, it won’t make me bitter if you decide not to, later. Knowing the conversation we just had, I’d be plagued by uncertainty about your comfort, my sweet. I just want to lay with you right now, but if you still feel like it tomorrow morning….”

Marianne feels a concoction of various emotions rising in her chest. Relief, love, embarrassment, and something like excitement or possibly nerves. “Alright. Let’s just sleep for tonight then.”

Hilda reaches up to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Yes, sleep, but preferably after I cuddle you to exhaustion.” 

Marianne can’t help the giggle that rises in her throat, light and bubbling with a happiness she’d never thought she could have for years and years. “Thank you for your love and consideration, she says, finally laying down onto the bed, crushing flower petals underneath and releasing their fragrance into the air. She curls a pink strand of hair around her finger. “I never could have asked for more.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is a lyric from 'take me to church' by hozier (this song never fails to make me emotional and also I think the themes are similar to those of this fic)
> 
> special thanks to my friend [AngelWalkingTheStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWalkingTheStars/pseuds/AngelWalkingTheStars) on here for beta-ing this <3 this fic was a kinda hard to write lmao, so even though I want to make a continuation of this where HildaMari actually try various things and Marianne explores her relationship with sex, I don't know if I'll be able to lmao. glad that I did write this though I'm satisfied lol


End file.
